Chapter Twenty-Seven
Raya
IN THE END, WATCHING Stefano sleep turns out to be far more entertaining than anything playing on the flat screen.
It’s utterly fascinating how pure and harmless he looks asleep. Makes me want to pinch his cheeks and nuzzle his perfect nose.
Thirty minutes passed five minutes ago, but I haven’t woken him yet. I’m selfish like that. And as I drink him in a little longer, the sinuous shape of sin slithers between us, curling into a sultry suggestion, a lascivious thought.
Biting my lip, I drag my gaze down past the gentle rise and fall of his chest, over the ridges of his abs, all the way to the waistband of his lounge pants, and…
I give in.
Instead of fighting a losing battle, instead of leaving it all up to him, I decide to take what I want. I’m aware of the hypocrisy here, the double standard. But I’ve never claimed to be a good person.
Gingerly, I crawl down and press a kiss to the defined dip of his V. And then another. Soft, lingering kisses, one after the next, across his pelvis until I reach the other dip on the opposite side.
Stefano stirs, but doesn’t wake.
Hooking two fingers inside the waistband of his pants, I slowly pull them down, inch by inch. Until he’s out.
My heart hammers in my clavicle at the sight of him. Semi-hard, cleanly groomed, and so damn deliciously inviting.
Wetting my lips, lusty and eager, I lean in and press kisses around the base of his gorgeous cock.
A low groan rumbles from his chest, and he stirs again. This time with a long, slow blink.
His lazy, lidded gaze drifts down just as I run my tongue up the underside of his cock. “What—mhhm…”
He twitches, a reflexive reaction, and I flatten my tongue, dragging another slow, deliberate lick all the way to the tip, peering up at him through my lashes.
Dark eyes shift into molten heat as he reaches down, brushing his fingertips gently against my cheek, as if checking that I’m real.
“I thought...” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “I thought I was dreaming.”
To assure him just how real this is, I swirl my tongue in a slow dance around his swollen head before taking him into my mouth. Just the tip for now.
“Ahhshit,” he hisses, hips jerking up in a sharp, helpless thrust.
I dawdle, playing with him, teasing along the veins, lapping at the slit, tasting his pre-cum.
Groans roll deep from his chest, his brows pinched as he gazes down at me, like he’s still not convinced this is real, as if any second now he might wake up.
Hmm. Am I not doing a good enough job? Challenge accepted.
Sheathing my teeth, I bob down on him, taking in as much as I can, then begin sucking him with purpose. Slow, rhythmic, deliberate. Drawing on every technique learned in my handful of sexual experiences.
“Gesù Cristo,” he breathes, voice ragged, gritty, as he cradles the back of my head. “If—shit, baby…if I’d known you were this good with your mouth—ahhfuck.”
Wrapping both hands around him, fingers snug but gentle, I twist in opposite directions as I suck and shine his head.
“Motherfucker, what the—” His fingers tighten in my hair, his hips snapping upward. “Shit, I’m gonna….”
No, not yet. Not when I’m having so much fun. Right now, in this moment, he’s my toy.
Slow and deliberate, I ease up on the intensity. Then peer up at him with a teasing smile as I playfully tap his cock against my lips.
“You little…” he trails and throws his head back with a tortured laugh, like he’s contemplating all the ways he’s going to punish me for this later.
I stroke him lazily from base to tip, just enough to keep him from losing it. A thick bead of pre-cum oozes from the tip, and I smear it across my lips like gloss, dragging him back and forth over my mouth.
Reveling in the gravelly sounds of his torture, I lick and swirl and fondle and squeeze and tease…getting high off the sounds of his unraveling.
“Enjoying yourself down there?” he grits out, voice strangled and shaking with restraint. “You fucking—fuck...”
I massage his jewels with one hand, while the other caresses his swollen, reddened head, until more precum seeps out for me to lap up like it’s an elixir for immortality
Stefano groans deep, then curses through clenched teeth.
“Keep fucking around and I’ll get up and fuck your mouth the way I think liars deserve.
” His grip tightens in my hair. “If you’re not ready to feel my cock pounding the back of your throat, then suck my dick like the filthy little liar you are and make me fucking come. ”
Nope. I’m definitely not ready for this unjustly large cock to be hammering the back of my throat.
Putting an end to my playtime, I swallow him down in one clean motion, deep-throating him with intension. And a raw, guttural groan reverberates from him.
Easing up a little, I fist him again and fall into a sweet rhythm, sucking and pumping in tandem. Working him like he’s truly mine.
Until his grunts grow deeper and his long legs become restless.
“You work my cock like you fucking own it, beautiful,” he grits out. “You really are a Delilah, aren’t you? Sucking my cock so damn good to make me—holy…fuck—”
He taps my shoulder in warning, but I don’t move. His cock becomes hard as steel, the twitch and tightening at the base signaling his imminent release.
He taps me again, more urgently now. But instead of backing off, I take him deep again, until the tip hits the back of my throat.
A curse explodes from him as thick, hot liquid spills down my throat, his cock pulsing heavily against my tongue with each twisting wave.
Only when he’s emptied and his fingers loosen in my hair do I pull back and lick up every trace left behind. Once he’s clean, I tug his pants back up and sit back on my heels.
My lips are no doubt glistening with his taste, and I love it. I would suck him off all evening if he’d let me.
Medical wise, he’s squeaky clean. In perfect health. So I have no qualms licking up every drop of him.
Chest rising and falling, eyes heavy-lidded and dazed, he gazes down at me like he’s trying to solve an unsolvable equation. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Delilah?”
I shrug. “You asked me to wake you up.”
A low chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Not the wake-up call I was expecting, but I prefer your methods. Five stars. Highly recommend.”
Fighting back a satisfied smile, I start to crawl away, but he catches my wrist and tugs me forward.
With firm hands, he clasps my hips and guides me astride him. My clit throbs as it settles against his semi.
Eyes drinking me in, he runs his hands slowly up my bare thighs, sliding under my dress.
“You won’t believe me if I said I didn’t bring you here to fuck you.
That I just wanted to stay in and spend time with you.
Get to know you. Understand you. But now…
” His voice dips as he squeezes my thighs, his lust-filled eyes fixed on my lips.
“You’ve opened the door…given me a taste…
of what that pretty little mouth can do. ”
His hands move from my thighs up to the sweetheart neckline of my dress. One traces the curved edge, while the other tugs gently at the fabric. Little by little, inch by inch, until the soft pink of my areolas peeks out…and eventually, my taut nipples.
“Fucking perfect,” he whispers hoarsely when my breasts are fully bare, tucking the neckline beneath them. “Perfect.”
And then his hands are on them, squeezing, twisting, flicking, fondling. Worshiping.
My nipples are achingly tight, my stomach twisting into delicious knots, my clit swollen and heavy. My whole body alive in every way.
Stefano is in his own world, having a private party with my girls. While I’m on fire. Losing my damn mind.
My hips undulate, chasing friction against my throbbing clit.
“Rosy pink lips…rosy pink nipples…” he muses, almost to himself. “I bet your…”
Abruptly, he sits up, grips my waist, and flips us so I’m on my back and he’s between my thighs. His head lowers and I exhale a light gasp when he sucks a nipple into his mouth.
“Ohhh, yes,” I breathe in a rush.
He cups my breasts, pushing them together as his mouth moves between them. Licking, teasing, nipping. Every motion slow, sure, deliberate. Such careful attention. Such tenderness. I’m…caught off guard by it.
Never did I imagined he could be this soft, this gentle. I could melt into this couch. All this does is make me want him more.
He starts moving down my body, pushing my dress up as he goes, scattering kisses across my stomach, fueling the fire already unfurling beneath my skin.
Mind foggy with want, with need, I writhe beneath him, desperate moans escaping me.
As his tongue swirls in my navel, his hand slips between my thighs, rubbing over my satin panties, soaked and clinging to my swollen flesh. Massaging me through the fabric, he shifts up my body until his lips are hovering just above mine.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks in a low, hungry whisper.
I part my lips, the yes on the tip of my tongue, eager to surrender to him. But by asking me, he just gave me something back: a sliver of control. A choice.
As much as I want his mouth on mine, I’m going to hold on to that sliver for as long as I can. “No.”
Indignation sparks like embers in his eyes, nostrils flaring. “You guzzled down my cum like it’s fucking vodka, but you won’t let me kiss you?”
There. That’s the beauty of keeping some control, no matter how minuscule. To be able to do that to him. “I—”
He presses the heel of his palm against my pussy.
“Ohhh, dear god! Stefa—”
Applying pressure, he rubs slow, grinding circles, and a mortifying keen escapes my throat. “Mhhhm, ohhh, don’t stop…”
“Tell me I can kiss you,” he breathes, voice thick with restraint. “Say it.”
“N-no.”
He hates that. Hates the rejection. Hates me.
Abruptly, he stops and drops back onto his knees. Then, with slow purpose, he lowers the waistband of his pants until his rock-hard cock bobs out. Eyes locked on mine, he fists himself and begins stroking in long, lazy pulls.